Talk To Me
by supernaturalsam
Summary: TAG TO CSPWDT Dean finally opened up to Sam, but the younger Winchester wanted more. Can Sam get Dean to let him in completely, or will he brother continue to leave him in the dark? ONE SHOT! COMPLETE


**Summary: Dean finally opened up to Sam, but the younger Winchester wanted more. Can Sam get Dean to let him in completely, or will he brother continue to leave him in the dark?**

**This is an episode tag to "Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things," and before you say it, yes, I know it's been done a million times before. I did this as a birthday present for my dear friend Mizpah and she suggested I post it for all to enjoy. Spoilers are for the above mentioned episode, so you have been warned.**

**I really would appreciate if you could let me know what you think about this. I'm always nervous when it comes to doing tags because I really don't know how everyone is going to respond to them. By the way, I am still working on "Unhinged" so if you want to hound me about getting busy on it, please feel free to do so…it's motivation.**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill, folks: I own nothing and the odds are pretty good that I never will.**

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Dean Winchester let out a sigh as he and Sam patted down the dirt over Angela Mason's grave. They'd spent the last hour or so filling the open grave, after making sure the scorned, heartbroken woman remained dead after Dean had impaled Angela to her coffin. He was happy to be finished with this case because it had done nothing but cause problems for the hunter, especially between him and Sam.

Sam gave one final pat with his shovel. "Rest in peace."

"Yeah, for good this time, okay?"

The brothers turned away, grabbing their jackets they had discarded earlier, and made their way back towards the Impala. Sam grunted in pain as he hefted the small shovel over his right shoulder. "You know, that whole fake ritual thing, luring Angela into the cemetery? Pretty sharp," Sam said, something akin to admiration in his voice.

Dean wasn't going to turn down a compliment, especially when they were so far and few between these days. "Thanks."

Sam looked over at Dean. "But did we have to use me as bait?"

Dean shrugged, a cocky grin on his face. "I figured you were more her type. You know, she had pretty crappy taste in guys."

Sam winced as he tried to flex his right hand that was still gripping the shovel. "I think she broke my hand."

Dean laughed. "You're just too fragile. We'll get it looked at later."

He stopped walking as they passed Mary's grave, turning to give it one final glance. He would love to be like Sam and stand there and pay his respects to his mother. But he couldn't do that. The piece of granite bearing her name wasn't his mother; it was only a name etched in stone. He couldn't stay there and disillusion himself by talking to the headstone, hoping she heard what he was saying.

Sam stopped walking as he noticed Dean looking at the grave. "You want to stay for a while?"

Dean looked up at Sam and shook his head. "No."

He popped the trunk and they discarded the shovels inside. Shutting it, Dean climbed into the driver's seat. After making sure Sam was in the car, he pulled off onto the highway.

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The Winchesters drove in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Dean couldn't stop the inner turmoil coursing through his body. He wanted so much for Sam to be able to help him, but how in the world could he let him in? Why couldn't Sam see Dean was doing this for him? He didn't want to drag his little brother into his own personal hell—he refused to do that.

But then again, he couldn't keep pushing Sam away from him. The kid was all he had left in this messed-up world, and if he lost that, he didn't know how much longer he could keep going. He couldn't alienate himself from the one person who was sticking around even when Dean didn't deserve to have anyone stand in his corner.

He didn't miss the concerned looks Sam kept shooting his way. He'd been doing it for the last hour or so, but instead of risking a blow-up, Dean chose to ignore it. He couldn't go off on Sam again, like he did back in Red Lodge, Montana. He'd felt guilty as hell ever since he punched Sam, but it didn't seem to bother the younger Winchester. Sam had just shrugged it off and continued in his pursuit to help Dean deal with their dad's death.

Scowling, and finally deciding enough was enough, Dean jerked the wheel to the left and pulled the car to the side of the road. Without a word, he got out and sat on the hood. Sam sat in the passenger seat for a couple of minutes before he reached over with his left hand and opened the door. He stood by the car, watching as his brother gazed out into the distance.

"Dean, what is it?'

"I'm sorry," he said softly, keeping his eyes away from Sam.

Sam looks at Dean in surprise. "You—for what?"

"The way I've been acting." Sam joined Dean on the hood, but he sat just far enough where he wasn't touching him, as if he's still wanting to give Dean his space. Dean doesn't look at Sam. "And for Dad. He was your dad, too. And it's my fault he's gone."

Sam frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Dean refused to look at Sam. He can't let Sam see the pain in his eyes, the hurt that's lying so deep inside. "I know you've been thinking it—so have I. Doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Back at the hospital, I made a full recovery. It was a miracle. And five minutes later, Dad's dead and the Colt's gone."

"Dean—"

Dean isn't going to let Sam talk him out of this. It's what he'd been battling for weeks now and there was no way to convince him otherwise. "You can't tell me there's a connection there. I don't know how the demon was involved. I don't know how the whole thing went down exactly. But Dad's dead because of me. And that much I do know."

"We don't know that. Not for sure."

"Sam." Here was his brother, trying to make sense of his rambling, but he couldn't do that. He wouldn't let Sam try to make him feel better about this. Dean felt a tear running down his cheek, but he made no move to wipe it away. "You and Dad…you're the most important people in my life. And now…I never should have come back, Sam. It wasn't natural. And now look what's come of it. I was dead. And I should have stayed dead. You wanted to know how I was feeling. Well, that's it."

Sam nodded his head, but doesn't say anything. For once in their life, Dean thinks he's finally managed to leave his kid brother speechless.

A couple more tears fall down his face, but Dean doesn't care. In that moment, he doesn't care if Sam sees him as weak, vulnerable. "So tell me…what could you possibly say to make that all right?"

Sam still says nothing as they both look out at the mountainous scenery, each dealing with their own emotions. Dean knew his brother was shocked by his confession, but Sam asked for it. Sam wanted to know what was going on in his mind and there really was no way for Dean to sugarcoat it for him.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, neither sure what to say to each other. Finally, Dean stepped away from the hood and walked back towards the driver's side. "We really should get your hand looked at."

Sam sat there for a couple more moments, before he finally pushed himself off the hood and joined Dean.

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Sam was shell-shocked to say the least. He never expected Dean to confess to him like he did, and it scared him to see his older brother, his protector, so vulnerable. For once in his life, Dean looked like a scared child and it just wasn't who Dean was. Dean was never afraid of anything, but yet here he was showing Sam a side he'd never seen of him before.

What could Sam say to his brother to make everything all right? The truth of the matter was, Sam knew there wasn't a damn thing to be said. All it would be at this point is empty promises to Dean—telling him things were going to work out, that they were going to be okay. Sam wouldn't do that to Dean, he wouldn't lie to him. Dean had too much shit piled on him lately without Sam adding to it.

That wasn't to say the younger Winchester didn't want more out of Dean. He wanted Dean to be more open with him; he still wanted Dean to let him in a little more. He knew his brother only hit the surface of what was bothering him, but his hurt and pain went so much deeper than that. Dean probably thought Sam would be okay with what he'd told him, but Sam wasn't about to be placated that easily.

"I think there may be a hospital around here somewhere. I remember passing it as we came through town."

Sam nodded. "Okay." He could feel his hand start to throb once again. He'd been trying to mask the pain as best as he could, but he knew it was a losing battle. Though Dean had brushed the injury off earlier, Sam knew there was no way his brother wasn't going to get it checked out. Injuries were not something the Winchesters took lightly, because in their line of work any injury could very well be the determining factor in whether they had a successful hunt or not.

About fifteen minutes later, Dean pulled up to the outpatient entrance of the Ware County Hospital. The brothers got out of the car in tandem, neither saying a word as they walked into the double sliding doors.

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Dean sighed as he unlocked the door to their motel room for the night. Today had been a long day, to say the least. With his roadside confession to Sam and spending a good three hours at the hospital so his younger brother could get his hand taken care of, Dean was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to crash into bed and not wake up for a few weeks.

They were lucky Sam only sustained a hairline fracture to his wrist. Though Sam was going to have to sport a cast for the next six weeks, it could have been so much worse for the younger Winchester. Dean didn't like to see Sam get hurt, but then again it was just a part of their job. It wasn't the first broken bone Sam had suffered and Dean knew it wouldn't be the last. Hell, the elder hunter had broken plenty of bones in his time on the job.

Shrugging off his jacket, he glanced over at Sam who was trying to unsuccessfully scratch his arm under the cast. "Dude, if you don't stop doing that, I swear to God I'll tie your hands behind your back."

"It itches," Sam said quietly.

"It's gonna keep itching—there's nothing you can do about it." He fell down onto his bed and lounged back. "This isn't the first time you've broken a bone." Dean closed his eyes.

"The last time I did, I was nine. I forgot how annoying it is." Sam gave up on scratching and let out a long sigh.

There was the sigh—Dean hated that sigh more than anything in the world. It meant Sam had something on his chest and he was just burning to get it out there. "What is it?" he asked, but kept his eyes closed.

"It's nothing," Sam mumbled.

"You never were a good liar, Sammy. Last chance—what's eating you?"

Sam let out another one of his patented sighs. "I just don't understand it, Dean."

Dean opened up an eye. "Understand what?"

Sam looked over at him, a solemn look in his eyes. "How can you blame yourself like that, Dean?"

Dean groaned. "Sammy, I really don't want to talk about this now."

"I know you don't, Dean. I know you probably didn't even mean to tell me as much as you did earlier. But it's a little too late to take it back now. I'm not going to let this drop, not now." Sam looked down at his feet. "I know I asked you to let me in and I'm grateful for it—I really am."

Dean felt as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs. He didn't want to hash this out right now. Sam was right when he said Dean probably let more slip than he wanted to, but it was a heat of the moment thing. Once Dean started talking, he couldn't get himself to stop even though he tried. At the time, he'd needed the personal release, but now he was regretting it, even though Sam said he was grateful. Sam shouldn't have to carry the responsibility of Dean's burden—Dean never wanted to place that upon his kid brother.

"Dean, I never wanted you to feel like you owed me an apology. I don't blame you for anything that's happened—dad's death, the way it's affected you—nothing. I know you needed something to lash out. I know it's been building up inside you for a while and I have to tell you, it scares me, man."

"I never wanted you to be afraid of me, Sammy."

"I never said I was afraid of you, Dean. I was afraid of what your pain and anger was making you become. It's been doing nothing but building up inside of you and I was afraid if you didn't find a release, open up to me about it, then it would destroy you."

Dean nodded, but didn't say anything.

"I wasn't handing you a line when I said I was afraid I was going to lose you, too, Dean. I don't know how much more loss I can take. I mean, losing Dad the way we did…it hurt so much. But I think it would pale in comparison to how I would feel if I lost you."

Dean felt tears stinging his eyes, but he fought them back. He couldn't let Sam see his tears fall again. Once today was more than enough, thank you very much. Sam had a gift, Dean would give him that. How was it that the kid sitting before him could reduce him to nothing more than a puddle? To hear Sam say how much losing Dean would affect him, Dean just didn't know how he was supposed to react to that.

"I'm not going to let you blame yourself for Dad's death, Dean. There was nothing you could have done, even if you weren't lying in that hospital bed dying. We don't know how Dad died, and hell we may never know. Maybe it did have something to do with the demon and maybe it didn't. But I won't let you sit here and continue to blame yourself for something you had no control over."

"It is my fault, Sammy. You can try to rationalize it to me all you want, but there's nothing you can say to convince me otherwise. The logical part of me knows you're right, it knows that it wasn't my fault. But the other part, the one that won't give me any rest—that weighs down on me everyday—it won't let me get away with it that easily."

Sam sighed. "I just need you to know I'm still on your side, Dean. Nothing's gonna change that—not ever. So you can keep placing the blame on yourself all you want, but I'm not. If I have to keep reminding you of that, then I'll do it until I'm blue in the face." He looked up at Dean and nodded. "I'm going to always be here, Dean. Whatever you need…I'll be here."

Dean made no move to wipe away the tear he was stubbornly trying to keep at bay. As it slid down his cheek, he nodded at Sam. "Thanks, Sammy."

Sam didn't say anything, but he reached over and patted his brother on the knee. Dean watched as Sam grabbed some clothes out of his duffel and went into the bathroom.

It was what he needed to hear, to know that Sam wasn't going to leave him like everyone else had in his life. He needed to know his anchor was going to stay in place, be there for him when Dean thought he couldn't go on anymore. He never could tell his kid brother how much that meant to him, how Sam being there helped him stayed grounded.

Maybe Sam would never know, but Dean could take solace in the fact that he would always have Sam by his side, no matter what. And that right there would keep Dean balanced.

In his entire life, Sam was the only thing Dean Winchester felt he needed.


End file.
